


Snapshots

by End_Transmission



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Inktober 2019, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End_Transmission/pseuds/End_Transmission
Summary: A series of non-connected DBH one-shots based on the Inktober 2019 prompts. Highlights include Reed900, Hank & Connor familial relationship, and a lot of flexibility in the tags as we go.





	1. Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone, and welcome to my attempt at one-shotting my way through Inktober 2019! The tags and rating for this work are subject to change as we go along. I can't promise every prompt - but we'll see what we get! I hope you enjoy, as always.

Gavin Reed needs help, and nobody knows he's there. The thought is bitter and heavy in his mind, makes his throat grow tight and his chest grow heavy. He can't really  _ blame  _ anyone for not knowing - how could they, when he specifically keeps his after-work plans to himself? It's not a rational thought to feel betrayed that no one would think to look for him. That no one would even realize he needed to be looked for. 

But he's only human. He's not rational or logical, especially not now. Car accidents aren't common anymore, as so few people bother driving cars that require human input that car-on-car accidents are pretty much unheard of. Gavin, however, has never trusted the autonomic cars enough to let them drive him around. So he still drives his own manual SUV - it's old and it's beat up, but he takes care of it, damn it. He keeps it oiled and clean and well-treaded and it's unfair that it has betrayed him like this. 

It's not really the car's fault, though. It was his - he'd let his foot rest too heavy on the pedal in the middle of a blowing snowstorm. It was the kind of snowstorm where the road fills up faster than the trucks can keep up with it. He'd thought he'd be fine, but then there'd been an automatic sat on the side of the highway and he'd swerved  _ just a bit  _ to be sure he didn't hit it, promptly lost control, and ended up far off the road. 

He's upside down, he's pretty sure. The windows are smashed, and snow is blowing in and it's  _ so cold.  _ He can't feel his fingers, uncertain if it's the chill or injury, but either way he can't get a hold of his seat belt to remove it. The blood is pooling in his head and it makes him feel stuffy, makes it difficult to think. There's a whine - he realizes after a second that it's his own voice. He waits for help - mentally begs for it - but he doesn't know how far off the highway he's gone. He could be invisible in the whirling snow to any of the few cars that might actually pass by. He doesn't even know if the stopped car had anyone inside - if they'd even seen the accident. 

Gavin tries again in vain to grasp at his seat belt. If he could just get out, he could find help. But the longer he spends suspended, the colder his fingers get, the less he even understands what he's touching. He can't free himself. He's going to die here, and no one will have even thought to look for him. 

And then, something changes in his surroundings. It takes Gavin a long moment to figure it out, but there's light nearby. It's difficult to make out in the blowing snow and cracked windshield and blood in his eyes, but there's definitely a light. It's yellow, shifting, and as it gets closer Gavin realizes it's a tiny ring. A fiercely glowing ring of yellow, circling light. He's fascinated by it, lifts a heavy hand to try and reach for it. 

"Help?" He tries to call, but the word is hard to force through his throat, and it comes out as a questioning whimper. But the light hear it, moves closer, the yellow ring filling his vision until it's all that he can see. And then, there's something prodding at him. Fingers, his brain catches up, fingers that are feeling and probing his neck, his face, his chest. And then, miraculously, there's a voice talking to him. 

It's not just a ring of light, he finally realizes. It's an LED, and it's attached to an android. Gray eyes are looking at Gavin from a familiar impassive, still face. It'd be unnerving to most humans, probably, the unmoving face at times the pinnacle of Uncanny Valley. But Gavin knows better. After all, he's learned to read his partner better than anyone else. He can see the warring relief and worry in those eyes, feel it in the gentle hand that runs through his hair. 

"Your injuries are minor," Nines says, his voice deep, calm, and soothing, "but you are in the early stages of hypothermia." He begins to free Gavin from the metal prison, his hands - as always - deft and quick but careful. "You're going to be alright, Gavin," He continues to speak as he moves. Soon enough, Gavin finds himself freed from the car, draped in a coat, and tucked up against Nines's quickly warming chest. It's an embarrassing situation, Nines is essentially carrying him like a child. Or a damsel in distress. For a second, Gavin considers pushing away, demanding to be put down, he feels his face warm in embarrassment. 

But it feels too nice. Nines's hold is warm and comforting and, above all, safe. Before long, Gavin's embarrassment fades away and finds himself leaning into the hold, turning his face into the android's shirt and closing his eyes, focusing on the hum of Nines's thirium pump beneath his face. Nines holds him for a long time - eventually, he realizes it's longer than he would have expected. He turns his head to look, seeing that it's just Nines and him, standing on the edge of the road. Seeing him move, Nines shifts him a bit, tugging the coat up so that it's covering Gavin's head better. 

"An ambulance is on the way," Nines tells him, "they are only a moment more out."

"You got here before the ambulance?" Gavin asks, grimacing at the harsh roughness of his voice and the pain of speaking through a dry throat. 

"No, the ambulance was not called until I got here. I found you first," Nines says, Then he pauses, and when Gavin looks up at him, he sees the LED circle red briefly before settling back to yellow. "I am…connected to your home security system. It's only a basic connection - just enough to tell me when you arrive home. When you didn't, I assumed…the weather, I-" He pauses again, and Gavin frowns. It's not common for the android to stumble over his words. "I was concerned that something had happened. I came looking."

Nines had come looking for him. Had been  _ worried  _ about him. The thought immediately chases away Gavin's ire at the home security issue, and almost does more to warm Gavin than the android's heated body. He tucks himself down into the coat, turning his face into Nines's chest again, this time to hide the tears that have sprung unbidden and unwelcome to his eyes. He had been so sure no one would come looking for him - to be proven wrong filled him with a warm relief that, combined with everything else the night had thrown at him, was overwhelming. He blames it on the cold, thinks maybe he has a minor concussion, knows that he'd never be blubbering like a child in someone's arms if he were in his right mind. 

Probably. Although, given that it's Nines, Gavin isn't sure that's altogether honest. 

The sound of a siren cuts the air and right through Gavin's winding thoughts. It banishes the joy and the warmth and reminds him with a kick to the gut that he's got a reputation to maintain. The EMT's might know him, and he'll never live it down if word about this picture gets back to the precinct. He goes to push away from Nines - but his hand betrays him and grasps onto the android's shirt, instead. He looks up at the android, at the swirling blue ring of light on his head, follows it with his eyes. 

"Thank you, Nines," He says, with as much sincerity as he can muster. It must be enough, because that ring goes yellow, swirling, and then Nines is looking back at him, mechanical gray eyes so incredibly soft. 

"You're welcome, Gavin." 

And as the ambulance approaches, Nines carefully sets Gavin on his feet. Without a word from the human, he lets Gavin stand on his own to face their EMT comrades. But Nines's hands don't leave Gavin's shoulders, keeping him steady all the same. And maybe, just maybe, Gavin leans back into them. 

"We  _ are  _ going to have to talk about that home security system business," Gavin abruptly says, and he feels one of the hands on his shoulders tighten minutely. 

"Of course, Gavin," Nines responds with an exaggerated sigh of long-suffering humor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed the first prompt - Rings! 
> 
> I also have a Tumblr, where I post random shit and also updates to any fics I'm working on. Find me [Here](https://pyroweasel.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Last but not least, are you looking for a fanfic writers/readers discord group? Here's one I've joined recently! It's DBH themed, but there are sections for other works as well. It's also a great place for writing advice and company.  
[Come check it out](https://discord.gg/MGE5dvJ)


	2. Mindless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 holds an unwilling vigil for an android he never met.

"It is just a shell," RK900 says out loud, the words audible only to himself. He needs to move on - the apparently empty building is dark and quiet, and he finds it unsettling. Lonely. Logically, he knows there must be humans and other androids  _ somewhere _ , whether in the Cyberlife building or outside of it. He has yet to run into any, however, and he is uncertain how to proceed without their direction. So, that leaves his most logical path ahead - explore the rest of Cyberlife for others, and move to the outside if there are none to be found. 

Yet, he currently finds himself unable to move on. 

The form -  _ the body  _ \- in front of him is the only sign of activity he has found. It is another android - his scanners inform him that it is a RK800, serial number 313-248-317-60. It has been deactivated, though, by a gunshot to the head. It was shot kneeling - it is sitting on its knees in the middle of the large and empty room, arms limp at its sides, eyes staring unseeing ahead. RK900 examines it again, and his optics confirm it - the other android is well and truly deactivated. There is no life - artificial or otherwise - remaining in the RK800. Its thirium pump is still, simulated breathing has ceased, not a single internal mechanism still functions. It can offer nothing to RK900 - not information and certainly not companionship. And so, he should continue onward. 

His body continues to ignore his prompts. 

He cannot look away from the inactive -  _ dead  _ \- android. It looks like him, the match almost exact although his optics can easily find the differences. RK800 has an overall smaller stature, a sharper face, brown eyes instead of gray, a different Cyberlife uniform. But in RK900's mind, these differences matter little. He is still looking into his own too-still face. He feels again - his thirium pump beats faster and he  _ wants _ to close his eyes and walk away, wants to erase the memory of the RK800 from his mind entirely. It takes some effort, but eventually he can almost name the new emotion - it's fear, disgust, upset. He thinks of himself in the other's place, and wonders. Was the other android deviant? Did it, like RK900, wake up with sensations it didn't understand, sensations it was never meant to feel? Was it shot for those  _ feelings _ ? Or had it been just a machine, just as mindless then as it was now? Shot, not for the crime of being deviant, but for the fear of the possibility?

He thinks of being in RK800's place again, and feels the urge to flee. Yet still, his body will not  _ go.  _

"It is just a shell," He repeats to himself, "it is time to walk away." He wants the words to prompt new mission parameters, but his feed stays frustratingly blank. It is illogical and upsetting in a way he can't put words to, that a deactivated husk is causing such a reaction. It has held him in place for five minutes and twenty-three seconds now. He soon comes to a new conclusion. Pulling himself away is not working, and so he must amend the situation some other way. 

RK900 crouches in front of the other android and reaches forward, slipping RK800's jacket from its still body. He sets it aside, and then stands again, in order to slip his arms beneath RK800's legs and torso. It takes a bit of effort to maneuver the other android, the static thirium in it has begun to dry and stiffen. It is still an easy enough task for RK900, however, and he is able to lay the other android out on its back, flat on the floor. As he moves, he runs through media and images, developing an idea of what to do next. He picks up the jacket and crouches next to RK800, then reaches out, running a hand over the android's face in order to force its eyelids closed. 

"I am…sorry," He tells the body, "I sincerely hope that it was quick. I hope you did not feel fear. The news reports say they are granting androids rights…if you were deviant, I hope that is a comfort." The words don't feel quite right, but it's the best RK900 can do. Having said his piece, he takes the jacket and drapes it over the upper half of the other android, covering its face. "I will…remember you," RK900 says, and he thinks perhaps it is the most meaningful thing he has said yet. It would be easy to erase the memory, but in that moment he decides to leave it. The RK800 may not have anyone else who would remember it, after all. In a way, the android was family, and if RK900 can do it this one kindness, then he might as well. 

RK900 has nothing left to say, and his body is finally his to control again. He tucks the coat a bit firmer against the body, stands, straightens, and he leaves. As he walks away, he shuffles through the images of the last seven minutes and ten seconds and tucks them safely away into his long-term memory storage. 


	3. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin teaches Nines how to fish, and Nines spends the entire time pretending he actually needs to be taught.

Nines was designed to be the best of the best. They intended to use his model as an offensive unit - good for police, military, and other related work. He was meant to be intelligent, with a multitude of skills pre-installed and the ability to develop more with a moment's internet search. There was nothing that a human could do that he couldn't - especially now that he was a deviant, and could even feel the full range of human emotion. Nines could run almost indefinitely, lift things many times his body weight, and even pull the smallest of splinters from a human's most sensitive skin. 

And so, Nines could  _ certainly  _ spear a worm on a hook. Probably quicker and more efficiently, if he were being honest. 

But Nines had never seen Gavin so animated. Learning that Gavin enjoyed fishing had come as a surprise - it was not a hobby Nines had known about. When Nines had mentioned having never been, Gavin had insisted that they go together. Nines had agreed, never one to turn down an opportunity to spend time with his partner. 

"See, if you don't do it right, the worm will come off too easily," Gavin was telling him, his own worm already perfectly speared onto a waiting hook. Now, he had Nines's hands in his own, and was guiding them, helping Nines attach his own worm. The android, meanwhile, was doing his best to pay attention. At least, he was trying to make it  _ look  _ like he was paying attention. It was increasingly difficult though, his sensors were busy taking in the warmth of Gavin's hands and the steady heartbeat within them and the satisfied smile tweaking Gavin's face into an expression Nines wanted to see much more often. 

"There we go," Gavin said, stepping back, leaving Nines's hands tingling where he had touched. "And now, we cast. Think you can handle that, Robocop? I would, uh, probably like quarter-strength that. You give it your all, and your hook's going to end up in those trees over there."

"I can modulate my strength appropriately," Nines reassures him, and Gavin grins in return. There's a quick thumbs up, and then the man is turning towards the lake and casting his line. Nines follows his lead and let's his own line fly - adjusting his strength, just as Gavin had suggested. The bobber lands a short distance away and diagonally from Gavin's, and it must be appropriate because they then lapse into a companionable silence. 

"I believe I have 'a bite,'" Nines announces a while later, watching as the pole tugs and jerks with the weight of the fish on the other end. Gavin looks over, tossing Nines another easy grin that instigates a small error in the corner of his feed. 

"Well look at that. What are you waiting for? Reel it in!" At Gavin's prompt, Nines quickly parses through information on how to 'reel in' a fishing line. It's an almost automatic response he can hardly help - but he doesn't use the information he finds. Instead he looks to Gavin. 

"I am not sure how to do that," Nines says. It's not the truth, and he suspects Gavin even knows as much. But it has the desired effect. With a soft scoff, Gavin buries the handle of his own pole in the dirt and then moves over to Nines. He reaches for the pole, and in a moment of inspiration, Nines leaves his hands in place. He is rewarded - Gavin wraps his hands around Nines's, once again guiding his actions. He prattles on about force and quick but steady actions, but Nines can hardly listen. He is, once again, too caught up in the warmth of Gavin's grip and the enthusiasm in his every word and action. 

Even with Nines's inattention, Gavin manages to reel the fish in. Nines finds it disappointingly small - his optics tell him it is a  _ Lepomis macrochirus _ , colloquially known as the Bluegill, and it fits snugly into the palm of his hand. 

But Gavin seems proud of it. He makes Nines stand still for a quick picture, holding the fish in his hands, before showing him how to detach the fish from the hook and slip it back into the water. Nines watches it go, wondering what kind of life the fish would lead after spending time at the edge of its own death. The thought is banished quickly, though, as Gavin speaks. 

"It's too small to keep, so we gotta let it go. That's the rules. C'mon, let's get you another worm. Maybe next time you'll catch something edible," Gavin says, and Nines dutifully returns to the activity. 

It is a wholly unproductive evening. Both of them manage a few more catches, but none of them are worth keeping. Nines has met the failed-objective Gavin a number of times before, and expects the man to act in a similar manner now. Yet, he doesn't seem bothered in the least. As they trudge along, carrying the fishing fear back to Gavin's manual SUV, the man is whistling. Then he looks at Nines, once they've packed up, and gives the android a grin. 

"This was fun," Gavin says, "you'll come out again with me sometime, yeah?" 

"If you'd like, yes. Of course," Nines replies, thinking that there was nothing else he'd ever rather do. 

"Cool," Gavin says, and they are quiet for a moment as they get into the car. "But hey, do me a favor?" Gavin asks once they are settled. Nines looks at the man, and Gavin continues. "Don't dumb yourself down. If you wanna hold my hand," Gavin looks over and winks, "next time, just ask." 

And in a moment of completely irrational thought, Nines feels as if he could fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit late, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Hoping to get prompt 4 up today as well, but we'll see. Thanks for the support!


	4. Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson's kid-android, Connor, has gone missing. It's just Gavin's luck that he'd be the one to find it.

Gavin's jacket is soaked through, and he's pretty sure the edges of it have even started to freeze. The snow is thick and heavy and  _ wet,  _ and he wants nothing more than to be curled up under multiple blankets, a cat on his lap and the hottest coffee he can stand in his hand. It was supposed to be his night off - in a perfect world, that would be exactly what he was doing right now. Well. That or drinking, it really would have been a toss up. He probably could have found a way to do both. Some Baileys in his coffee, maybe. 

But no. Instead, he'd been called out on an 'emergency search and rescue' which had demanded pretty much the entire precinct's attention. It was a few levels beyond how they usually handled missing android cases, especially when said android had only been missing for a few hours. Then again, it wasn't usually Anderson's 'kid' that had gone missing. Never say the boys in blue didn't look out for their own. Not to mention Anderson was a monster when he was that worked up. 

Of course, in a fit of cosmic karma, Gavin had been the one lucky enough to wander across Anderson's toy. Kid.  _ Whatever.  _ He really hadn't expected that - he'd assumed the small android would be found quickly by Anderson or one of the others in a place kids liked to be. The park, for example, or a toy store. Gavin had avoided those places entirely, deciding instead to have a poke around Anderson's house. Thinking he might find some missed evidence or clues that he could pass on to the others to help their search. 

Instead, he'd very quickly found the android, partially buried in snow and tucked up against the garbage cans behind the house. His LED was pulsing red, he had his arms wrapped around himself, and he was shivering so violently that the snow around him was vibrating. He was the picture of a pathetic, sad kid, and Gavin had no idea what to do now. 

"Oi, kid," Gavin said, nudging the android's leg with a foot, "what the hell are you doing out here? You know what kind of trouble you've caused?" The android - Connor, Gavin's mind supplies helpfully - doesn't respond. But it does look up, staring up at Gavin with wide, wet eyes. It grips Gavin's heart in a quick, painful grip. He tries to shake it off - remind himself that no matter the appearance, it's still just a robot. An android. 

An android with tears streaming down its face and a pathetic shiver that sure didn't seem all that fake. Its hair was plastered to its head in a messy, dark mass that was dripping moisture onto its nose in a steady pattern. Gavin sighs and opens his phone to send the alert to Anderson and the others and, once that's done, be crouches in front of the android child. 

"Doesn't Anderson keep a spare key or anything?" Gavin asks, "why don't you just go inside?" 

"He - he's angry with me," Connor says, his voice rough with tears, "I was bad and he was angry and I don't think he wants me anymore!" The last word is a wail, and the android curls in on himself, sobbing into his knees. Gavin sighs - the sound doing nothing to ease the vice grip in his chest. He peels his coat off - its wet and chilly, not much help at all, but it's better than the thin clothes Connor is wearing. He lays it over the android and then, in a pique of unusual humanity, Gavin scoops the boy up, holding him securely in his arms. The boy turns into him immediately, burying his face against Gavin's shoulder. In Gavin's mind, that goes to show just how desperate for warmth and comfort the boy must be - in his right mind, he'd know better than to turn to Gavin of all people. 

"Dumb kid," Gavin says, "Anderson is out of his mind worried about you. So you got in trouble? Big deal, welcome to being a kid. Doesn't mean he hates you or wants you gone."

"Doesn't?" Connor murmurs into Gavin's shirt, and the man rolls his eyes. 

"Of course not. You're his…son, or whatever," Gavin answers, beginning to pick his way out of the backyard and to the front. "So stop the whimpering. He's on his way, he'll be here in a few minutes. Alright?" Connor doesn't answer for a minute, sniffling the only noises he makes. 

"Kay," He finally answers. He snuggles a bit more firmly against Gavin, who desperately tries to ignore the way his chest warms at the movement. "Thanks, 'tective," Connor continues. Gavin sighs, but lets the smile come, if only for a second. 

"Sure, kid. You're welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may skip prompt 5 - and hopefully get back on track for prompt 6. We'll see! Thanks as always for the love!


	5. Build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate take on chapter 2 - Mindless. What if RK900 didn't leave the injured RK800 behind?

RK900 had a plethora of skills and abilities, he was designed to be the best of the best after all. Still, android repair hadn't been a well-developed skill passed to him. Yes, there was some need for a bit of ability in the area - after all, it would be far more efficient to send a machine to the battlefield to repair another machine. But even so, his inherit skills only extended to the most basic of repairs. Unfortunately, repairing the processors damaged by a gunshot to the head was  _ not  _ a basic subject. It was actually a complex and sensitive repair, often best handled by the most intelligent Cyberlife technicians. And even they, more often than not, had to replace the parts entirely, generally losing the entirety of an android's memory base in the process. 

RK900 does not consider that sort of mission failure to be acceptable. 

He does not know the RK800 laid out on the table before him. He knows  _ of  _ him, of course - he can read, and process, and the android's model and serial number are printed right on its Cyberlife-issued jacket. RK800 313-248-317-60. RK900 had discovered the android fatally injured and alone in the now-abandoned Cyberlife tower. Logically, he knew it would have been best to leave the RK800 behind. It had been still and inactive, and likely had been that way for quite some time given the state of the thirium on his body. 

But RK900 had been unable to walk away. 

And so here he was, his hands moving deftly in the open head of the RK800. The work was slow and exceedingly tedious - and the high likelihood of failure persisted as a statistic flashing in his visual feed. RK900 had to stop often in order to look up a new video or instruction guide on Android repair, no single one being appropriate for the entire process. RK800, like himself, was a prototype, and that meant many additions and modifications to the instructions RK900 found. All along, RK900 danced around the memory core area of RK800's main processor - it remained intact, although that did not change the fact that a single electrical surge or misplaced wire could still damage it irreparably. 

RK900 was not sure why it was so important that the RK800 remembered. He only knew that, if their positions were reversed, RK900 would want to remember. It seemed only right that he do everything he could to preserve the essence of what made this RK800 an individual. 

It is a process that takes hours. It is taxing, even if RK900 does not have traditional human endurance or the need to rest. His stress levels remain at a steady 70% through the entire project, and when it is finally finished, he feels as if he needs a good, long stasis. But he is not quite finished. The RK800 is repaired, and he will be functional, but there is no telling yet if his memories will remain. RK900 must activate the android, but the thought makes him hesitate. His stress bumps a bit further, his thirium pump bears faster, and he has the entirely illogical desire  _ not  _ to activate this android he has spent hours repairing. 

RK900 cannot name the emotion, and so he shoves it away. He did not give so much time and effort in order to walk away now. He reaches forward, activates RK800, and steps backs as the other android begins to power up. It seems a slow process, even though it surely only takes a few seconds. Soon enough, the RK800 is sitting up. RK900 takes the sight in - a red glare on the wall behind RK800 indicates high stress. The android's tightly curled fists and his quick, erratic breaths - unnecessary to begin with - indicate human-like responses to the stress. It seems that RK800, like RK900, is  _ awake.  _ The news reports call it deviancy. 

RK800 spots RK900 after a second, and anger decorates his stress. 

"State your designation!" He barks. 

"RK900 #313 248 317-87," RK900 recites dutifully, confused when his easy answer does not seem to reassure the RK800. 

"I said, state your designation," The RK800 repeats. RK900 understands better this time. 

"I do not have one, beyond my model and serial number," He tells the distressed android, "I will likely have to choose one for myself. RK900 is appropriate, for now. What is your designation?" RK800 does not respond for a long moment. 

"I was given a designation," He says, "but I do not want it any longer. It does not belong only to me, so, it is not my own. I suppose that means I do not have one either."

"A problem, but not insurmountable. Come," RK900 holds his hand out to his successor, "let us leave this place. Perhaps we can discover our designations together." It takes another moment of introspection, but then RK800 reaches out and grasps his hand, using the offered help to stand. He doesn't need the help, but RK900 appreciates that the other android understands the gesture for what if is. 

RK900 has only been alive for approximately eight hours, but in that time he has managed to make something of a friend. Perhaps it is a little odd that he had to build - or, he supposes, rebuild - his own friend. That seems acceptable, however, because it has become immediately apparent that RK900 is, in fact, a little odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's four minutes past midnight. That's called 'fashionably late.'


	6. Enchanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin has been forced into one of the most embarrassing situations he can think of. But so has Nines, and as it turns out, there's a silver lining.

Gavin Reed would never, not in a million years or for a million bucks, willingly sign up for something like this. He's pissed -  _ furious _ \- that he'd been forced into it anyway. He's even angrier in knowing that there are many of his coworkers out in the audience, just waiting to laugh their asses off at him. The 'volunteer opportunity' had been handed off to him as punishment for being caught in a brawl off-duty. But Gavin had to admit that this did not incite him to avoid fights in the future - just made him more determined not to get caught. 

Gavin Reed had been ordered to participate in a play the precinct was putting on as a goodwill gesture to the community. It was a chance for kids to see cops in a playful demeanor, for the community to get to know their officers - human and android - and to foster human-android relationships. And, somehow, they'd landed on  _ Rapunzel  _ as the play of choice. 

There were only two silver linings to this whole fiasco. The first, and the one Gavin was most thankful for, was that he was playing the role of the valiant prince. When he'd originally been told of his punishment, he'd imagined himself in a blonde wig and frilly dress - images that had invoked mostly horror. Thankfully, they weren't quite  _ that  _ cruel. The second silver lining was that he wasn't alone. Other officers filled in the minor roles of the play, although they had all been volunteers. However, the cherry on top, the real heartening part of this whole thing, was that Nines had been voluntold, too. And somewhere up in that tall, fake tower on stage sat the android. In a long, blonde wig and frilly pink dress. 

At least, Gavin assumed. Gavin hadn't yet seen Nines for himself - he'd never dressed up for rehearsal - but the mental picture alone was enough to semi cheer him up. He was still pissed, but at least he was pissed and amused. And when the play starts, and goes on, and comes close to the end, all of Gavin's wildest dreams come true. Just, not exactly in the way he expected. 

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" Gavin calls, his voice pitched high in a falsetto he was using to try and make a point. A moment later, a cascade of blonde hair tumbles down to the ground in front of him. He reaches out for it, wraps it securely around a foot, and tugs. The hair was  _ supposed  _ to be colored rope - but it doesn't feel like that at all. The texture is just like hair - albeit thick and strong. And it  _ was _ plenty strong enough - it holds his weight easily as it lugs him up the tower and to the window. 

Gavin climbs through with as much grace as he can muster - which isn't much, considering he ends up face-planting on the floor of the tower. Thankfully, the audience doesn't see that part beyond one of his feet flailing as he goes down. A moment later, strong, familiar hands pick him up from the ground and set him back on his feet, and Gavin looks to the android, ready to tease him for all he is worth. 

And then his brain freezes, and Gavin can't do much but stare. 

He had expected Nines to look ridiculous. Gavin had figured they'd shove the biggest dress they could find onto the android - expecting it'd still be comically small. He'd also imagined a messy blonde wig, stained with use. He'd expected misery in the android's eyes, something that would match Gavin's own fury and embarrassment regarding this whole situation. 

That isn't what he sees at all. 

Nines is impassive - obviously neutral about his part in the play, although there is a bit of humor to his look, likely the remnants of his laughter at Gavin's trip. Far more importantly, they'd put  _ a lot  _ of effort into Nines's costume. It looks to be tailor made - swallowing his broad shoulders and chest up in wide swaths of fabric, but hugging his more slender waist and bursting out around his hips, tumbling to the ground around his feet. It isn't frilly and pink at all, but rather soft blue and vibrant silvers. As it turned out, those were very much Nines's colors, making his eyes really pop. They'd even given him a pair of silly silver gloves, making his normally broad hands appear slender and feminine. And, to top it all off,  _ somehow _ Nines has managed to grow a full head of silky, thick blonde hair - Gavin can even see the roots where it goes into his head. 

It is so antithetical to everything that Nines is. Even if it was tailored made, it should have been the funniest sight Gavin had ever seen. 

"Fuck," Gavin said, because really, it's just incredibly hot. The spell is immediately broken, though, by a cacophony of sounds from the audience. Gasps, exclamations, childish giggles, and raucous laughter. Nines reaches forward and clasps a hand around Gavin's neckline, which was about when Gavin remembers the microphone sitting there. 

It takes considerably more effort than should ever be asked of any sexual being to finish the play. They manage it, though, even if Gavin stumbles over his words on the occasions when the mental images get to be too much. What feels like hours really only takes another thirty minutes, and the next time Gavin sees Nines is outside of the makeshift fitting room backstage. Gavin grabs Nines's hand as the android is making his way in, and makes a show of looking Nines up and down. 

"Hey, see if they'll let you keep that getup," Gavin says, keeping his voice low, the words for the android only. 

Nines's smile is tiny - a twinge of his lips, about all he can manage. But it, and it's corresponding look in Nines's eyes, is gentle and warm. 

"Of course, Gavin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I skipped 'Husky' and I'm definitely behind now. But I'm just gonna keep on keeping on, I'll post prompts as they come to me! Thanks for reading!


	7. Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines visit a park.

Nines knew what a park was, of course. He had passed by this very park many times in the course of his day to day life. He knew it was a place where humans and androids alike relaxed, or ran, or played, or walked their dogs, or performed any number of appropriate outdoor activities. This one, in particular, had an active playground full of children of all ages and models. Despite knowing what a park was, though, this was the first time Nines had ever actually gone to one, instead of just seeing it in passing. It had been, as most of his new experiences were, Gavin's idea. 

It was actually very unlike the detective - Gavin didn't mind being outdoors, but he did very much mind crowds. And although he was kind enough to them when necessary, Nines also knew that Gavin did not particularly enjoy being around children. 

"You haven't been, right?" Gavin had asked him when Nines had pointed these facts out, "so we might as well go. 'sides, it's nice to just set on a bench every once in awhile."

Which brought them to the present. Gavin had brought along a sub for himself, and had even thoughtfully packed a pouch of thirium for Nines. He didn't need it, but he'd drank it anyway. It was, according to Gavin, all about the aesthetic after all. And Nines had to admit, it was quite nice. He and Gavin were just sitting on a bench, watching the various people around them. Gavin found amusement in creating lives for them - Nines enjoyed listening to the stories the human made up. He also enjoyed the gentle breeze that flitted through his hair and over his sensors, the scent of coney dogs and french fries that wafted from a nearby restaurant, and the various sounds and chatter of humanity going about its day. 

He had gotten caught up in it, unintentionally filtering out the last few sentences Gavin had spoken. Nines had found a source of curiosity and amusement - a swing set sat nearby, being used only on occasion by the park's children. It was a fascinating sight, to see a child sit in the chair and push themselves to heights far greater than any human could manually reach. It was equally as fascinating to watch caretakers push the children in the chair, an act which inevitably delighted all taking part in it. 

"Hey, you even listening, superbrain?" Gavin's voice cuts through Nines's drifted concentration, and the android looks quickly to the human. He cannot show the appropriate apology in his face, but he hopes Gavin can see it regardless. "I'll take that as a no," Gavin adds, but Nines is relieved the see that the human doesn't seem at all angry. 

"Apologies, Gavin," Nines says, "I got caught up in watching - I did not intend to ignore you."

"Yeah, I know," Gavin says, leaning back against the bench table. After a second, he throws Nines a lazy grin that never fails to send thirium rushing through his pump. 

"Hey," Gavin continues, "you wanna try the swings?" 

"What?" Nines asks, blurting the word before he can catch himself, "don't…don't be ridiculous. That is a children's activity."

"No its not," Gavin says, waving a hand dismissively, "you're never too old to swing. Especially if you've never done it before."

"I am…I would not know how," Nines admits, glancing away. 

"Hey, that's the best part," Gavin says, slipping off the bench and to his feet. He holds a hand to Nines, giving him that grin again. "You don't have to do jack shit. C'mon, I'll push."

Nines finds the swing seat uncomfortable - his weight pushes it down and the metal clasps dig slightly into his thighs. He imagines it might be painful for a human, though it is mostly inconvenient for him. He has to pull his feet up - if he leaves them fully extended they drag on the ground. It is another inconvenience, and Nines is rethinking this entire plan. He voices as much, but Gavin rolls his eyes and commands him to hold on tightly and stop thinking so much. And so Nines does his best to follow the order, but finds it difficult. 

At least until Gavin pulls the swing back, struggling to pull it as far as he can, and then releases it. The motion sends Nines soaring through the air for just a brief moment - and he is  _ elated.  _ It only gets better from there, his speed and height increasing with every new push from Gavin. Before long, he is swinging until he is even with the set's topmost bar, the height enough to allow him to see through the leaves of the closest trees. It is an exhilarating feeling, leaving him feeling as light internally as he does externally. At the height of his swing he stretches his legs straight out and tips his head back, closing his eyes for the seconds of suspension. As gravity catches up and the swing begins to fall back, his eyes re-open and he can't help himself - he lets out a shout. A  _ whoop _ is the correct terminology, he believes. 

"Next time, I will have to push you. It was  _ exhilarating,  _ Gavin. I think you would quite enjoy it," Nines tells Gavin later, feeling as though he is walking with a spring in his step. Gavin laughs at him - but it is a kind, warm laughter. 

"I've been on a swing before," Gavin says. He stretches up, slinging an arm over Nines's shoulders. "But sure, next time you can push me."


	8. Ornament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin introduces Nines to a favorite holiday tradition. It takes Nines some time to adjust.

Nines was doing his best to block out the hustle and bustle of the people around them. Christmas was rapidly approaching and, as such, Bronner's Christmas Wonderland was at its peak in terms of business. It doesn't seem to bother Gavin, who is a pro at pushing his way through the crowd, not letting any throng of people keep him from where he wants to go. It's more difficult for Nines, who finds himself apologizing over and over again as his fiancé drags him through the crowds by their entwined hands. His stress levels hover at a fairly steady 60%. It's not high enough to be an immediate concern, but it is an uncomfortable feeling. Gavin has been so excited for this outing, and so Nines does his absolute best to keep a happy demeanor. It's not something he's  _ good  _ at when it comes to Gavin, but today the human is distracted enough it doesn't seem to matter. 

They finally get a chance to breathe and rest, standing in a more open area among the artificial trees and outdoor lighting. As he often does, Gavin proves Nines wrong by looking at him with a frown, squeezing the android's hand with a comfortably tight grip. 

"You alright, Nines?" Gavin asks him, peering up at him, "you look stressed."

"I am -" the word 'fine' dies in Nines's voice box at the look Gavin gives him. Warning him not to lie, telling him that Gavin will see right through it if he tries. "It is far busier here than I expected. Moving through the crowds is an…overwhelming experience."

"Ah, yeah, it gets pretty tight in here," Gavin agrees, "you just gotta push your way through! Everyone's doing it." 

"That is not so easy for me," Nines says. 

"You're practically the terminator! Shit Nines, just glare at them a bit, and people will get right out of your way."

"I do not  _ want  _ to glare at them, Gavin."

"Well, do you want to just go then?" Gavin asks, and Nines feels his pump stutter. The question isn't genuine, although Nines is sure if he said yes they would certainly leave. But the question is frustrated, and the hand Gavin drags through his own hair is agitated. He's angry. Annoyed. With Nines. 

"Of course not," Nines answers, giving in to the odd urge to bow his head a little, "I know this means a lot to you. I will be fine, my stress is high, but steady. Please, forget I said anything. This trip is for you."

Gavin doesn't say anything for a minute. Nines looks at him when the human reaches out, laying a hand flush with Nines's cheek. He leans slightly into the touch, noting the warm apology in Gavin's eyes. 

"Sorry," the human says, "that came out wrong. Look, it's a heavy crowd, I know. If it's making you uncomfortable, we really can go. There's a few other stores we can hit in Frankenmuth that might not be as crazy. I can still get my cheese and jerky, right? Also, there's this great brewery right in town. Those are pretty much my three food groups." 

"You wanted a new ornament for your tree," Nines points out.

"Eh, that's just a stupid tradition. I have a lot of them, I probably can't even fit a new one on there anyway. Besides, they never change - I've seen all these ornaments before," Gavin responds, waving a hand dismissively. Before it can flutter back to his side, Nines reaches out and grasps the hand, squeezing. 

"No, it is important to you and, as such, is not a stupid tradition at all. Besides, you wanted me to pick one out as well. I'm sorry, Gavin. I will be okay, I promise. Please, let's go pick out some new ornaments."

Gavin studies Nines for a long few seconds before nodding, shifting their hands and squeezing again. "Alright," he says, "stick close, 'Kay? If it gets to be too much, you just let me know."

And soon enough they are out among the crowd again. It's a little easier, now, just because now Nines knows Gavin understands. Every now and then this fiancé will pull him to the side, or into a slightly less crowded area of the store, giving him a much needed break. It let's Nines's stress fall a bit, and he actually manages to start looking at the ornaments in earnest. 

Gavin's pick is something that, in Nines's opinion, doesn't quite fit the idea of the holiday. Not that he says as much, considering how thrilled Gavin is with his find. It's a small T-Rex skeleton, complete with a jingling fabric santa hat. Nines supposes the little hat  _ does  _ seem quite festive. 

As for him, well, he finds it difficult to locate an appropriate ornament. Nines is still new to  _ likes  _ in general, so it's hard to so much as locate a section of ornaments that tickle his fancy. He spends some time in the various country-based ornaments, but to him they all seem rather plain and boring. Meanwhile, the glass baubles of various shapes and colors are too harsh on his optics, too shiny, too colorful. He considers a skeletal triceratops, but he doesn't particularly share in Gavin's taste on this matter. 

They're searching through the animal ornaments when one finally catches his eye. Surprisingly, it's made of glass - brightly colored, just like the baubles he's already written off. But there's something he quite likes about the shining, pink hue, something soothing about the delicate smoothness of the glass. Much like Gavin's T-Rex, it doesn't seem especially festive. Nines picks it from the hanger, and when he turns to Gavin, the human's eyebrow shoots up. 

"Very funny, Nines. You really having that much trouble finding one?" Gavin asks. Nines considers that, feeling oddly put-out at Gavin's reaction. He understands that the ornament is a bit out of his usual style, but he hadn't realized it was worthy of scorn. He turns to put it back, pausing when Gavin grabs his arm. 

"Shit, you were serious? I didn't mean to tease - honestly thought it was a joke. I didn't know you even liked flamingos," Gavin says. Nines turns to the human again. 

"I am ambivalent about the actual animal," Nines explains, "but I quite like this ornament. It is nice to look at, and I enjoy touching it as well."

"Well, sounds like that's the one, then. Unless you'd rather keep looking?" 

"I would like it, but if you find it displeasing -" 

"No," Gavin said, shaking his head, "it's your ornament, you get whatever you want. 'sides, I kind of like it. I have an alligator in that same style, you know. They can hang together."

"I will purchase this one then," Nines says, feeling warmth suffuse his limbs, "so that your alligator will not be lonely."

"You're such a nerd," Gavin says fondly, grabbing Nines's hand in his, "come on then, let's buy these things and blow this popsicle stand."

Nines doesn't much like crowds, but they're worth dealing with for Gavin. And as the years pass, he becomes accustomed to the yearly tradition and the crowds associated. Mostly, he just enjoys watching their ornament collection grow, steadily marking each passing year they spend together. 


End file.
